


Savior

by StarryNighty



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League - All Media Types, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Black Reader, Black female reader - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:49:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNighty/pseuds/StarryNighty
Summary: Request Prompt: You can give me what I desire freely..or not..but I’ll have you anyway.Summary: Superman saved you once.Warnings: 18+!! non-con, biting, stalking, obsessive behaviorsA/N: Created by request from @titty-teetee, Thank you for giving me some ideas and beta’ing my filth lol. Love you! <3This is my first dark!Superman/Clark Kent story. I hope you like it. :D
Relationships: Clark Kent/Female Reader, Superman/Reader
Comments: 39
Kudos: 229





	1. Chapter 1

You were vulnerable.

But of course all humans were defenseless against Superman. The only escape being death could avoid the inevitable brush with the near immortal being he was. The endings always hurt him though. Not his, theirs. Bloody bodies, fragile and penetrable, certainly left an impression. But he saved who he could.

And today was no different.

You laid broken on the top story of a skyscraper, a gaping hole created by the next villain he had to dispatch. As humans were known to do, you were in the middle of it. An undesirable result of heroism, collateral damage was a familiar factor in his victories.

Your sorrowful prayers could be heard from a mile away, they guided him to you. Finding you was easy enough. Though willing you to stay was harder.

He plucked you up from the debris of steel and concrete. Floating above the streets your eyes blurred with a vision of a man chiseled from unearthly flesh and a painted sky. His eyes, yours lingered on the blue in them. Maybe they matched the opaline shimmer under the orange of the sunset. You weren’t sure. The blood flowed from your wounds leaving you dizzy and on the brink of great unknown.

He passed through the doors of the emergency room. Crimson cape and dark blue suit swept past others. He carefully laid you upon the stretcher. He spoke clearly to the doctor about what he could see beyond your soft skin.

Your hand drew him back in. It grazed helplessly over his and he found himself embraced in your feeble hold. Rigid fingers clung to his cape as you attempted to pour yourself back into his arm. You mumbled, hysterical and scared he gently plied you back to the stretcher.

“You’re in good hands.” He said, holding your shoulders upon the thick plastic. You fumbled with your words but his hand held the nape of your neck. You melted into his touch.

“Thank—thank you Superman.” You muttered.

* * *

Months passed as the city repaired itself. Clark went to work as usual. He made sure he stayed busy with the stories dumped onto his lap. It was boring. And the only thing that broke up the monopoly of dullness was listening to the sounds of the world.

Your world, specifically.

He was right on time. You were on the job. Clark glanced at his watch it was nearly time for him to make an excuse and leave the building for that sweet drink from the bodega.

It was there he found you behind the counter. Your face was disagreeably scrunched up with unbelievable disdain for the man on the other side.

“He’s a fucking jerk!” the man argued.

But you were quiet. Clark peeked over the rim of his glasses gauging the anger flash across your face.

“He’s a hero! He saved my life. Do you want that coffee on your face man? Will that be all?” you bit off shaking your head. You grabbed for the cup and tossed it into the trash near your register.

“Get the fuck out,” you hissed. “Now!” you shouted when he didn’t move.

Clark walked up to the registered as the man mumbled curses under his breath while leaving.

He watched you continue to eye the man through the smudged windows. Upset didn’t look too good on you he admitted. But he loved to watch it anyway. Your passion was always the best part of how you moved through your world.

“Can you believe that guy?” you asked, mostly to yourself. “Superman is amazing. I wouldn’t be here today without him.” You softly said with your eyes returning to the bespectacled regular.

You fingered the package of M&M’s, the orangina without looking at the man as you scanned the items. He was a familiar site, always just before the lunch rush and always took his time.

He sort of grunted in agreement as he pulled out his wallet. You half-assed register him pulling out money but your mind was still on the other man. Dick.

“I wouldn’t let him ruin your day,” said the man across the counter.

He was smiling, blue eyes brightly gazed back at you and slid a twenty toward you.

“I’m Clark by the way,” he said grabbing the bag of candy coated chocolate.

Without much thought you tell him your name but you admonish yourself afterward for how easily it came out.

“You’re here almost every day,” you evaded the obvious awkward silence on your end. “But it’s nice to meet you, Clark.”

His smile faded with every step from the counter. You moved on to the woman behind him without another thought. You didn’t even look at him as he walked away.

That hurt. After all, in this city, it was rare to find another person as openly kind as he thought himself to be.

After that day, he never missed another opportunity to see you.

* * *

He thinks maybe this has gone too far.

You were so adamant in your choices. Your passion walked a fine line between selflessness and gallantry. He could admire that. Not dumb enough to really risk your life, but brave enough to voice your opinions. And he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it.

So he watched you. At first it was harmless. He didn’t sleep much anyway. Long into the night he would gaze across the metropolis into your tiny apartment. He would listen to your laughs. And regard your cries when you awoke from dreams too horrible to speak of.

Tonight was different. He gave himself permission to observe the moments before your climax. He could see the heat gather between your legs, the tips of your breasts, and the swirl of it in your belly.

There was something different though. Your eyes rested achingly across the room. If he stepped a little to the right, it was almost as if you stared right at him. You whispered desperately on a breath. Clark strained to ear but the words were not lost.

“Kal-el,” you eagerly moaned.

Clark stilled, his cheeks flushed pink at the mention of his Kryptonian name.

You were doing more than just defending him.

* * *

You weren’t in danger. But honestly you never felt safe.

Sometimes you sat in silence with the back of your neck still tingling where he had held you.

You tried hard these days to remember what it felt like to be held.

In the middle of your reverie a knock to your apartment door drew you out of it. At this hour? You glanced at the clock that read 1am. And when you opened it confusion and surprise creased in your brows further.

“Clark?” you asked.

Dark curls folded back to a pristine pale face against the void of light from your opened door.

He smiled awkwardly. The regular customer who turned into a routine of sorts shifted on top of your matt. At first it was just coffee here and there. And then when he moved a few floors up from you it became a comfortable meet up in the mornings.

But this was new. He had never come to your home so late and unannounced.

“I wondered if you were awake. I thought maybe we could talk if you weren’t busy?”

You began to shut the door, pressed your body against the edge as you slid it to a crack.

Clark’s hand caught the lip of the wood just under your chin.

“It’s just…I heard you talking about dreams the other day in the bodega.” He said quickly.

You eyed him as he continued. “I have dreams too.” He confessed.

He looked harmless enough. White shirt, loose gray sweats, maybe dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep but you couldn’t be certain. But his words hit at your own plight.

“Alright.” You said and moved behind the door to allow him into your home.

You move to the kitchen in the beginnings of making a kettle of hot water. Clark perused the posters of cats, landscapes dotted around the wall of your small living room.

“What about your dreams,” you asked sitting the red kettle above flames of the stove.

Clark didn’t turn around he stood by one of your four windows. “They get heavy sometimes.” He said and still never moved. “What are yours about?”

“Fear,” You watched his back as he finally turned from the window.

Even in the dim space between you could see his eyes, cerulean and glassy behind his frames. A handsome man for certain, that was never doubted in your opinion. But beauty goes only skin deep. The way he watched you, with a little broken smile, perhaps it was scrutiny you thought. But it left you feeling less impressed with his looks.

“But what would you know of that newsman?” you chuckled lightly and began to pour the hot water into the mugs.

“I know it.” He was near you.

Your eyes moved from the window to where he was now. Clark stood next to you running a hand through his ebony curls and peering at the mug.

You sat the kettle down. “How—I didn’t hear you coming.” You stuttered.

“People rarely do.” And smiled again.

You shrugged off the anxiety, blamed it on his proximity. After all, it had been months since another person had even touched you. Anyone would be uncomfortable.

You tossed a few bags of tea in each mug, grabbed one of them and tried to hand it to him.

But Clark stepped nearer, placed his hand over the curve of the scorching mug and slowly sat it back down on the counter.

“What’s wrong?” you asked looking at the steam rising from it.

“Nothing,” he said, his expression grew serious.

You wondered why he was staring at your mouth, his hand moved from the mug and wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m just tired of watching from a distance.” He said softly and tried to tug you toward him. “The world’s not as big as you think it is. Sometimes it becomes too easy to reach out when it gets too small.”

His fingers snap at your wrist again this time the result was your chest against his. Jaw tense, eyes focused on you he stared at you with fathomless searching. For what. You ask yourself but the thought floated away with his lips inching further in.

His hands moved over your body lightly touching at your elbows, down your back leaving heat as he went. You hadn’t thought of kissing this man. This stranger. But within his arms he felt known, beyond the glasses something in his eyes lets you know there was an eternity there. That there could be peace, maybe even comfort.

“I loved watching you,” he spoke again and this time his words reach you. “But you need more, don’t you?”

Clark latched both hands on your forearms and began to guide you from the kitchen.

“I need more,” his mouth quivered with restrained desire. You shook your head, words formed in your mind but they don’t make it to your mouth. He was strong, surprisingly so, that your struggling went unnoticed by him completely.

His glasses slid down his nose as he readjusted from your arms to your shoulders. They fall off completely when you swiped at his face.

Your chest, the entirety of your ribcage halts, at least it felt like that as you stared shocked at his features. Angular jaw, sharp dimpled chin with eyes far too renowned to be a coincidence locked with yours.

He nodded knowingly and wrapped his arms around your body dragging you nearer to the living room. He forced you onto the couch belly first knocking the breath from you. Heavier than the dreams that kept you awake, your hero, your savior pushed his weight on top of you. 

You made to move away, by mere centimeters your fingers and hands stretched to the arm of the couch for leverage.

“You can give me what I desire freely,” he grunted tearing your shirt and exposing your back.“Or not,” he grabbed your hands folded them behind you. “But I’ll have you anyway…”

Somewhere between the nightmare unfolding and your fear your thoughts clear. You squirmed under him but it only ensured that he had better access, an easier path for his fingers to find your slit. And when tears burst from your eyes, his fingers, two at a time, slide inside of you. He seemed to enjoy it more at your expense. 

Wiggling his hips, pressing the length of himself against your ass his knuckles become painted with your reluctant wetness. His breath comes heavy over your hot cheek. Resonate humming from his chest stirred into a groan against your neck with every plunge. The sinking feeling is that he loves this as much as you hate it. But your pain doesn’t stop his teeth from nipping harder into your skin. They are reminders, he tells himself, little bite marks that draw pin pricks of blood will become your mementos. A gift for the first time. 

Your begging becomes white noise to him. You can feel the bruises welting under your skin along with your rebuilt spirit crumbling. His tension becomes your compass. Maybe the harder he goes, the quicker it will end. 

Callously he prods at you, his hips hitch in and grind against the fat of your ass. He whispered, words come out short and heated in your ear. You turned your head in protest, he growled disapprovingly and barred one arm at your neck pinning you helplessly. He doesn’t stop there. The other hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to rupture blood vessels forcing you to spread your legs.

His shuddering moan echoed into your mind as he entered you. He was hot inside you. Deep and refused to let your tightness impede on his pleasure.

Obscenely, his moans pitched in his throat with every thrust into your body. You knock your ass back into him it only gives him better, deeper passage. You could hear the chuckle in his deep groaning, the surrender in the hiss as he started rocking against you in a brutal pace. He doesn’t give an inch or a care.

Your hero presses his body harder on to your back. “You won’t ever be alone again,” he said gently into your ear. His lips stay there, kissing you tenderly to your cheek.

“’won’t be alone…” his voice was losing control as were his motions.

The slapping of his pelvis into your ass rang out into the darkened room with your sobs and his moans in the backdrop of his violent act.

“’keep you safe..”


	2. Savior pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: dark!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader  
> Request Prompt: You can give me what I desire freely..or not..but I’ll have you anyway.  
> Summary: Superman saved you once and now he has you. A continuation of the one shot Savior.  
> Warnings: 18+!! non-con, dubious consent, biting, stalking, obsessive behaviors, Stockholm syndrome  
> A/N: Created by request from @titty-teetee, Thank you for giving me some ideas and beta’ing my filth lol. You make me want to write better! Love you! <3

You wonder how long it had been. A few days? Perhaps it had been more like a week, maybe even two since he left you here in the middle of nowhere.

You had tried to leave the land. Exploring the farm grounds the first days had been your mission. But quickly you discovered barriers both natural and technology based kept you inside.

Days blended together now.

But the constant anxiety left you exhausted. With no sleep, and you ate little, it left you on edge for the inevitable moment Clark would return.

Though there had been signs he visited every day. Groceries would show up on the doorstep, stuffed inside a box would be a few dvd’s of movies all on the theme of romance. You shuddered at seeing the top of the case of Love Actually as you took in the day’s supplies.

Your eyes moved from the box to the landscape. A stretch of fields plumb with tall grass that continued to rocky stones lined along the border of the property. You wondered if Clark was still there, within the thickets, watching you accept his offerings.

You hoped he would stay away.

_But then the night came._

* * *

For Clark, time was slipping away from him in all the ways he wanted to describe the love he had for you. A tepid woman for certain with your affections. But he could see through your thin icy exterior. Somewhere past the frost of your attitude there was fire there.

It was there smoldering in your eyes and here on your skin. Even as you slept the heat from your body warmed the palms of his hands that glided from your hips up to your ribcage. Pulling your ratty tee shirt up higher and higher in the moonlight filtering in from the window your nipples stood up perk.

He couldn’t help but imagine him and you happy, with a family.

“No one can hurt you now,” he whispered as his mouth took one in and swirled his tongue around it.

No one will even dare, he thought while sliding his hand back down between your spread legs. Crouched over you, naked, like a looming cloud, Clark pushed your legs further apart with his knees as his head rose from your breast. He stared at your sleeping face when two of his fingers pushed inside the warmth you had to offer.

You weren’t wet.

Clark moved his body until his head rested there before your heat. He carefully tore away your panties and placed his mouth delicately upon your folds. At first he kissed you. Dotted your thick lips with loving kisses in praise of the day he found you in the debris.

“You smell like home,” he said reverently before licking widely up your crease.

You stirred at the sensation but did not wake. Clark pulled you apart and licked inside of you and then greedily licked your clit. You tasted pure to him. He pictured himself drinking from the sweetest of fountains.

You awoke then.

In your best resistance, you did try to struggle. You did attempt to slam your thighs shut but he held you open licking and sucking on your clit.

But it was when you started smacking him in the head that he stopped. After all you would most likely hurt yourself before you injured him.

Clark grabbed both of your wrists and held them down at the sides of your head and rested between your thighs.

Your tears were immediate.

“Don’t—do this to me,” you cried feebly. When he did not move you twisted under him, bucked your hips, and shook your head like you were rattling the image of him out of your mind.

Clark sighed and accepted that you still needed help in understanding his purpose.

Your fidgeting only intensified his needful demand of you. He rubbed his length along your mound, slowly stroking himself as you turned your face to the window. More tears and your heavy breathing turned to stuttering gasps.

“You can learn,” he said falling completely on you. “You can learn to love me,” he said softly moving his hands from your wrists to your face. He held your head and planted desperate kisses from your ear to your mouth.

“I’m here for you, to protect you.” He mumbled and began to push into you. When you tried to kick your legs Clark folded you, he grabbed the backs of your knees, hooking them around his arms and sunk further into you.

He crushed you. His weight lay heavy on your chest and the only relief came in the form of his slow, purposeful thrusts. The cascade of silver light over his features muddled in your teary eyes. Curls, soft brushed over your lips as he ducked his head down to suck your neck.

And when his teeth began to bite you shuddered from it. You pushed on his shoulders, tried to escape the feeling. As shame filled you like he was stuffing you now. It rolled over your body mixed with the unwilling sensation to cum.

“Fuck,” he hissed around his mouth onto your skin. “I knew you loved me too,” he groaned.

You cried harder as the need within you began to force its way. His hips hit harder, he grinded his body quicker against your clit until it happened.

“Take me in,” His voice was softer now, patient and pliable as you came around his cock. “A family. Make us a family.” He chanted.

Clark stilled, he grabbed your hands that slipped to his chest and them pinned to the bed.

He drove inside you harder, his skin slapped rhythmically with his breaths puffing over your face.

“I’ll make you a mommy..” he said, his voice growing desperate. “What will that make me?” he asked while steadily filling you.

When you didn’t speak, Clark wrapped his long fingers around your neck. “Say it,” he threatened as his grip grew tighter.

“Daddy…” you mumbled the word and his eyes lit up.

His head lowered to your lips as he licked across your gaping mouth.

“Carry my baby…” he moaned with his body growing rigid.

Clark rammed inside you one more time, he shut his eyes and he threw his head back as he came inside you.

“I’ll give you a family…” he croaked.

* * *

The thought of how many days you had been here came infrequent now. Your life beyond the farm seemed like a dream. Did you really have an apartment? The smell of the bodega after the chef finished making sandwiches felt like an experience that belonged to another. 

This was your life now. Clark was home in every sense of the word.

And yet, here you were shivering against the wall of the barn. Wet from the rain, the cold seeped all the way to your bones while you held the pole of a pitch fork close to your chest.

Clark would have called your actions a momentary lapse in judgment. Running away after six months was futile, but you seemed to try every other month anyway. Just when he thought you had learned, something within your spirit would spurn you to act out.

He let it lie for the most part. He waited your tantrums out. Like he was doing now.

He could see you through the sheets of rain, past the old wood, where you shrunk against the planks as tears poured from your eyes. The thin straps of the blue and violent dress he had bought you barely hung on your shoulders. Rain slid down your neck, along your chest…

Clark felt the ping of need across his groin. He had promised you that he wouldn’t take, but you had to give. After your first night with him, you had fulfilled your promise. It was the little things at first that ensured your gratitude for him. You would come to him, kneel in front of him and take him into your mouth. Like the good wife he needed you to be.

You were so well behaved.

Until now, in yet another attempt to escape him. Clark stepped off the porch and walked through the rain toward the barn.

If you only knew how loved you truly were. They, the people you worked with –didn’t deserve you. He could see the strength in your eyes even before he entered through the door. How courageous you stood with it in your fingers, ready to act if need be and brave enough to follow through.

But you were outmatched. Clark appeared out of nowhere in front of you with a look that said this was useless. He plucked it from your grasp sending you and it to the dusty wooden floor.

You landed on your knees and palms.

“I’m sorry for this,” he said from behind you. “I’m so sorry. But fear seems to be the only way to make you understand.”

Turning to see Clark approaching you stumbled from the floor but he caught you. Rain shook down from his body as he rushed you into the tool bench. Your hips crashed against it, restricted movement further as he bent you over harshly. Clark took a wad of your hair and slammed your face upon the oil and dirty wooden surface. He tore at the fabric of your pretty dress and made faster work of the silk panties he bought you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he goaded and forced your legs apart with his feet. “’Need me to be the bad guy and punish fuck you? Can’t be a good girl can you?”

“I will!” you shouted and tried to twist away from him.

“Too late for that,” he chided.

He saddled your hips within his grip and forced himself inside you. The force of it took your breath away. You tried to sit up but he held you down with one hand. He stretched you harshly as he dragged in and out as his nails dug into your back. Rain flicked of your hair, your face with his pounding. You might as well have been underwater. The air in your lungs burned, your hearing warped until nothing but a high pitched buzzing lingered.

“It’ll be over soon,” he groaned and his hand on your back rubbed up to your shoulder.

He squeezed your muscles hard as he spoke. “You wanna be my good girl again?” he asked.

Tearfully you nodded as he continued to thrust mercilessly into you. “I’ll be your good girl.” You crooned feebly. “I am!” You shrieked as he dug in deeper.

“For who?” he asked loudly and placed his other hand on your shoulder forcing you to curve your back.

You hung your head in shame. You didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to concede to his fantasy. But rather than suffer more you spoke.

“ _Daddy_.” You said softly with a sniffle but it wasn’t good enough. Clark gathered your hair in his hands and reined you in with his grasp. “Say it louder.” He demanded.

“For you, Daddy.” You moaned.

He sighed blissfully and loosened his hold.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl when you wanna be.” He groaned and pushed you back to the counter.

“It’ll be over soon, baby.” He moaned deeply.

“I have you now…” His hands moved back to your hips. “I’ll always have you, won’t I?” he asked sweetly.

You nodded against the wood grains. He was right.

“Yes, Clark,” your words slid from trembling lips.

You will always be his.

_Forever._

* * *

Clark stared at you in the bedroom. Elated, he was positively enamored with the change in you.

You weren’t trying to leave anymore. Truly you gazed at him with the love he had always wanted.

But there was something else this afternoon. Just after he finished cleaning up after lunch there was a sound.

At first he thought it was the patter of a rabbit’s foot underneath the house. He walked through the house peering through the floorboards for the culprit. But the path in search for the solid strong beat only led to you.

Clark stepped into the bedroom as you finished pulling on some comfortable shorts. It was movie night after all. As he walked nearer to you the sound grew stronger.

Your heart beat pounded faster when you reached out and grazed the black stubble of his chin.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, noting the concern in his eyes.

But as your heart beat faded away he concentrated on the second sound. He dropped his eyes to your belly. He moved his eyes back to yours.

You had two heartbeats.

“Are we still going to watch the movie tonight?” you asked and stepped up to him wrapping your hand at the back of his neck.

Clark slowly nodded. You kissed his chin and walked out of the room back toward the kitchen. His eyes followed you down the hall. He peered within you and saw the life created there.

His baby, with his girl.

Clark smiled big and shoved his hands into his pockets. He walked out, back down the hall with the knowledge nestled safety in his thoughts.

He sat down in the armchair thinking about all the things he would teach his child. He thought about what a great mother you would be. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television with you in his imagination.

“Let’s watch this movie.” He called from the living room. You walked around the corner with the bowl of popcorn. Clark’s eyes danced over your form.

He gestured to his thighs. “I saved you a seat.” he said with a grin.

Your eyes flickered to his lap and back to his eyes. You walked over with the bowl in hand and sat in Clarks lap as his hands wrapped around you tightly. He buried his face in your neck and breathed in deeply.

“I love you Clark,” you said on a sigh and held up a kernel of popped corn to his mouth.

He opened and you put it on his tongue. “I love you too,” he said as he crunched away.


	3. Savior pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: dark!Clark Kent x Fem!Reader  
> Summary: AU One-shot continuation and final.  
> Warnings: 18+!! non-con, dubious consent, obsessive behaviors, Stockholm syndrome, this is a dark! chapter. Proceed with caution.  
> A/N: Created by request from @titty-teetee, Thank you for reading through my notes. I hope this got better! You make me want to write better! Love you! <3

For weeks Clark’s special kind of attention dropped off. Your reaction to his sudden change was kindness. Lots of it. Dabs of sweetness dotted your actions. Loving doing the laundry, with gratitude you washed the dishes, and at night you openly invited him to you. 

In the days since there were no arguments or even petty squabbles about your place in the home. You moved within the space delicately as to not draw attention to that perhaps he had become tired. Stepping softly in the kitchen, little clashes of dishes clattered as you prepared dinner, you even breathed shallower while moving about.

There was something wrong though. What it was, seemed elusive, but the feeling that his upset would be your downfall only seemed to be around the corner.

_Punishment._

Clark’s words were enough now, or lack thereof. Typically you were met with immediate resolutions to any wrong doing on your part. But this entire month he had been nearly unresponsive in his replies. His love making was gentler and even his voice sweeter when he spoke to you.

Perhaps this was the punishment, you thought. Maybe it was a form of torture.

The thought even crossed your mind he was preparing you for a morbid end.

_What would happen if Clark did not want me?_

You knew too much already, experienced more. He already had you. It wasn’t as if you had an army of loved ones leading the charge to find you. _He could easily dispose of you._

The thought sent a chill down your back as steam rose onto your face from the pot on the stove. There had to be a way out. The nagging thoughts you had boxed deep within opened freely. In fear, maybe he could be poisoned? A clear image of him choking death surfaced as you observed the steam dissipate against the cracked enamel of the stove. 

He is Superman, of course he couldn’t be killed, not forever. At least not by you.

You dismissed this thought and watched the contents of the pot.

Here in this house, built by his family and maintained by him, you are the guest. Not a guest you corrected, you were more now as the slates in the roof or the nails holding beams together deep in the bones of the house. You are his, most likely until the end of your days. 

You stirred the sauce again and sat the spoon down on the holder. You dug around in the spice cabinet near for seasoning. When you turned back to the stove Clark was standing there on the other side. Black curls obscured his eyes as he stared at what you were cooking.

“Smells wonderful,” he said softly and looked up at you.

_Could he see your thoughts?_

You glanced at the simmering liquid. Your mind wandered far from the stove, the Kent farm, your captor back to a time when your mother had made this recipe. A time where the world seemed as simple as cutting onions, celery, and adding it to a pan to create something delicious. It was so far removed now that even the memory brought little comfort to you now.

“Thank you,” you replied dryly and did not meet his gaze again.

Always observant of your subtle shifts Clark moved closer to you.

In the beginning you might have flinched, but you did not now.

“What’s going on in that wonderful mind of yours?” he asked and put his hand on your lower back. “Not happy with how it turned out?”

Clark’s heat, the steam from the stove, and the smells tinged your stomach. Your mind raced to think of why you wouldn’t be happy with it. Anything but what was really currently in your thoughts.

“I think I added too much salt,” You impersonated a pout and looked up at him, further releasing the useless thoughts. Clark grinned, shook his head at your possible mistake.

He reached over with a pink out and dipped it into the middle of the sauce. He stared back at you as he sucked the thick liquid off the tip of his finger.

“Tastes perfect,” he said with a smile.

“Just like you.” He lowered his head toward your lips. Automatically you tilted up to meet his kiss.

“Good girl.” He whispered and your heart exploded with his praise.

He kissed you again.

* * *

After dinner, in the evening you were in the garden. You meticulously saved seeds, found some in the barns, and created something of your own. Clark had said that the small patch, now a very large garden, reminded him of his dear departed mother.

Sometimes Clark would watch you tend to the black soil with disdain. He didn’t know you had seen the expressions. He would stare at you from the back porch, sat in the rocker, and observe your actions.

As if it was your fault she was no longer here, you thought. If he had further reservations about the patch of goodness, he didn’t speak on it. You were simply attending to something that needed your attention. An uncared for bit of Earth to call your own that you lovingly put your heart into.

Who knew you could be so rural?

The potted plants within your apartment died within the first month. Either forgotten completely or over watered they perished under your guard. But not these rows of tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers that were flourishing now in the springtime humidity. 

You were happy here, knees nestled on the mounded edge as you lean over and pull out an errant weed or two. It smelled fresh with hints of wild unabashed growth that took you to a happy space. A place you could entertain free thoughts, better days, and even hope.

His gentleness of the previous night carried with you. A bowl of scraps in hand as you walked behind the barn to the compost pile. Your eyes always wondered to the border he created. Not mountains boulders but tall enough to ever deny you the freedom you once desired. You kept watching them, scanning the distant rounded rocks as you turned a corner. While standing at the back barn door one section of the boarded swooped down into a ‘v’. Absentmindedly you dumped the contents on to the rotting pile and thought nothing of it. But you glanced up again toward the configuration beyond the overgrown field. Above the green fingers of corn you could see it, an opening.

A strange turn of events for certain. In the beginning you dreamed of escape. Heart thumping, wild running beyond the barrier had been your saving grace once. In a time Clark had but his entire focus upon you. 

Your mind raced with his relaxing disposition in the last month and took a step forward toward the field. 

You didn’t bother to look back. The bowl fell from your hands and you ran. 

No thoughts surfaced as your breath wore down hard in your mouth. Maybe the errant thumping in your ears took over the swishing of the stalks slapping you in the face. But you ran nonetheless as fear drove you to race to the barrier. 

Even when you became entangled in roots and weeds, falling did not stop you. Covered in the rich soil you flailed about sick with the realization that even the land was trying to keep you. 

And you hit the rocks hard as you stumbled from it. You were right as you stared at the gap. However slim, you could do it. Fatigue wasn’t the word for how you felt in the moment as you cautiously walked to the opening. Your fingers scraped over the gray surfaces signaling your departure. 

It was easier to maneuver out of it than into the gap. The tears slid down your face when you saw tall trees separated by smooth dirt road before you. 

Was it a relief that you were feeling? It was so foreign at the point it could have been mistaken for hope.

You clung to the other side of the barrier with a hand crumbling the rock beneath. Any thoughts of where to go did not quell the flourishing explosion within you. 

“I thought we were passed this.” said a voice from your right.

Your entire being seized, stomach lurched at the sight of him and collapsed to your knees. Happy tears turned to open weeping as Clark stepped from the tree line from across the road.

“Please!” You choked out. “Don’t kill me-I can do more..” You wept.

Black curls hung over his brow. That sun-kissed skin glistened in the evening sun but somehow through the trees casted shadows around his eyes. Blackness and only focused upon you Clark calmly walked toward your hunched form.

His big hands wrapped around your rigid fingers and pulled you from the dirt.

“Never,” he said. He glanced up at the rocks behind you and then back down at the flicks of soil covering your face and clothes. 

“I would never hurt you.” He said drawing you into his chest.

“You’re the mother of my child.”

* * *

_Mother of his child?_ It had happened. But what did that mean for you though? 

Empty eyes stared back at you from the reflection in the mirror. You were cleaner now after a quick wipe down and change of clothes. You touched your face. Still warm and smooth despite the chill within you and the jagged edges of your thoughts.

Perhaps being the mother of his child was this gentler Clark. He had felled you. Maybe his answer was to be merciful now.

And his need for you extended further than you could imagine. 

But before you could access what plans, crashing from behind the house pulled you from imagining a possible future.

How long you had been shaking had gone unnoticed as you fell through the screen of the back door. Mouth agape at the scene you struggled to walk from the threshold out onto the porch. Thick smoke smothered your lungs, ash floated like snow over the patch of garden.

You held onto the pillar as you took a step down and slid down to sit. You scanned the charred leaves as you peeked through the bars. The wood you clung to had no give, no warmth, so you held yourself. Arms twisted in front of you as tears poured from your eyes at what Clark had done.

 _This was punishment_.

Your eyes glide over the lifeless plants to him. Red dimmed as he stared at you.

“I was afraid,” You whispered.

“Is this how you pictured your day ending?” he asked and he looked back at his work. “Come to me next time.” He reprimanded.

You easily fall back into misery. Once more with Clark’s intentions to rectify your behavior it becomes the source of pain in your heart.

Tears cool on your hands as you stare back at the death of your garden. His presence next to you on the steps does nothing to soften the blow. Instead you shrink away toward the railing trying not to cry harder. Your hands grab the wood, you hold on tight even as he wrapped his arms around you and over your hands.

“You made me do this,” he explained and wrenched your hands away and folded them over your chest. “No secrets okay?” He said and turned you to his chest.

“I know this hurts,” he said wearily rubbing your back. “But you have to learn.”

You wiped at your nose with the back of your hand and stood suddenly. You walked toward the scorched dirt delirious in your anger.

“Learn what?” You attempted a strong voice, but it only came out pathetic. “That you’re a monster?” Your voice quivered.

Clark sighed, the creaking of the wood let you know he was off the porch.

“I know you’re emotional, the baby-“ he said calmly.

You twisted around. “I hate you!” You shouted and tried to shove him.

Clark didn’t move, merely blinked as you fell to the ground.

“You keep me here!” you accused, pointing up at him. “Let me go!” You cried.

And when you tried to stand Clark grabbed you up by hair and hoisted you up to face him.

“I’m a person…” your lips trembled. “I feel..” you hissed as he wrapped his arm around you.

He floated toward the porch and pushed you through the back door.

You ran through the laundry room and to the kitchen but he was there again. Clark grabbed your arm snapping you back and yanked the front of your dress off leaving nothing but your bare breasts. Even with your world falling apart you shielded yourself. You squirmed anyway despite knowing he would only let you go if he wanted to.

His face wrenched into scorn. 

“What?” he bellowed. “You want dignity?” he raged and crowded you against the faded wallpaper of the wall. 

Clark ripped at your dress, tore off your panties and plunged two fingers inside of you.

“It’s not in here…” he glowered.

Your hands went to his face. Screaming and crying you clawed at him breaking a few of your nails in the process. He tired of your fit and grabbed your wrists and pressed in harder. Slowly the air in your lungs pushed out, it became harder to breathe.

“You have what I give you.” He scolded. “It can be great, or it can be this.”

You gulped for air. His beautiful angry face faded to blackness as you passed out.

When your eyes opened to the window, night had fallen. But light from the sconce above you dimly lit the living room ceiling and the softness of the cushions of the couch helped with the soreness of your body. 

You looked down, your dress was in shreds. You fingered the fabric over your stomach. But you were not alone. You turned your head to see Clark in his armchair near your head, legs spread watching you closely.

“Touch me.” He commanded quietly.

Searing fear burned within you. Eyes wide acknowledged his words, this test of loyalty after an episode. Clark always assessed how much you had fallen from his influence. This time was no different no matter your excuses for running away. 

You were calmer now though you fought back shedding the tears forming in your eyes.

He provided for you, your mind chanted and you slipped from the couch on to your knees. He wanted devotion, so you crawled the short space to him in the only groveling he approved of.

You crouched in between his knees. Made yourself small and forgiving as you look pleadingly into his black eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out.

“For?” he asked, still not moving.

“I shouldn’t run away from you. I should have never called you a monster.” You said softly, and put your hand on his knee.

The crease in this brow diminished and he ran a finger down your cheek until his whole hand moved to the back of your head pulling in you closer.

“You feel so weak in my hands.” He said and with his other hand moved your fingers to the top of his zipper. “I would never hurt you. Sometimes you make me though. Don’t you?”

You nodded.

“Why are you holding out, with all of this fighting-,” he inquired gently. “I’m your hope.”

You unbutton his jeans, zipped down the front. “I’m giving you everything a woman could want. So take it,” he said, freeing his growing erection.

“Taste it,” he groaned as your lips slipped over the swelling head. “It’s good for you.”

As he liked, you kept your eyes on his face as you took him further into your mouth. Clark smiled tenderly watching the self determination drain from your eyes.

“That’s it,” he moaned as your tongue swirled underneath the shaft. “That’s my good wife.”

He leaned back thrusted a bit into your throat guiding you to take him deeper.

“All that pride,” voice thick in his throat he held both sides of your face. “For what? I’m going to take it from you anyway…”

Your mouth was slick, your tongue coated with his briny taste only increased with the further hardening of his cock.

“You’re so much prettier when you give in.” he hissed and held you still as you gagged on his cock. “That’s my girl.”

He spurted, long strands exploded as you tried to force yourself to swallow but some spilled out around your strained lips.

“You better lick it up.” He demanded and let you go. Your tongue glided down the veiny thickness scooping him up into your mouth.

“Swallow every last drop, sweet pea.”

You did as he commanded. Licking back up his length and suckled on the head. Still hard, still pulsing in between your lips Clark held your arms.

He pulled you up, positioned you to straddle his thigh. With a few yanks he tore the rest of your dress from your body.

“Move your hips,” he held your muscles, demanded that you do as you were told. “Maybe I’ll even let you cum.”

Your pussy, already wet, rubbed across the starchiness of his jeans. Folds slick and unwillfully determined to increase your desire you rolled your hips harder on his thigh. His muscles flex underneath you and between your thighs. You drew your eyes away from his cock, up his plaid flannel shirt as your clit grinds on the wrinkle of his jeans.

You relented to the feeling by rubbing faster and harder. Shame filled you too when you feel the edges of your orgasm start to grow. 

Hanging your head, you stare at the tufts of hair peeking out of the top of his white shirt underneath. His skin, the dampness drew you in to remember what it felt like to have him hold you down. 

“Look how greedy you are,” he chuckled. “You’re leaking through.”

Embarrassment blazed across your skin.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said weakly. “ _Daddy_.” You whispered and fisted his shirt in your hands, feeling yourself coasting toward an orgasm.

“You’ve disappointed me so much today sweet pea.” he crooned scornfully.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you moaned and kept the pace.

“Ah, but when you talk like that, you almost make me want to go easy on you.”

You collapsed upon his chest and rode him harder. Clark’s hands slid to your ass and pushed you down. Pitifully you drew your head back and moaned in his face.

“Is that what you want? Need softness?” he asked warmly. “Need Daddy to be tender?”

You nodded and threw your arms over his chest and held the back of his neck.

“You want to cum?”

You nodded again and hoped he would take you back in. That he would see your desire as loyalty and would forgive your attempt, maybe even see it as a hiccup, a mere mistake on your part.

“Say it then.” he tutted as a teacher to a student, his eyes floated over your body to your ass rocking on his thigh.

“Daddy, may I cum?” you whimpered. “Please Daddy, let me. I’ll be so good for you, I promise.” You begged.

“Who takes care of you?” he asked, still helping you to rub.

“Daddy.” You whinged.

His voice, smooth and tender whispered in your ear. “Who do you trust?” he asked.

“Daddy.”

Clark pulled back as your head fell to his shoulder. Tears slid from your face from the sweet feeling about to burst between your legs. His eyes stayed on your face, accepting your pleasure and waiting for the precise moment to snatch it away. 

Suddenly you were to your feet, head dizzy, your clit still throbbing from delayed bliss he held you in front of him. 

“I have a better idea,” he said cruelly.

At first you walked in front of him out of the living room. You thought maybe he was taking this encounter to the bedroom, but a quick jerk of your arm in the direction of the kitchen let you know. 

And you resisted. 

“No,” You quipped and he dragged you by the arm anyway. 

Clark threw open the back door, he tore you down the steps and started the walk toward the barn. Toward the only place you swore to yourself that you would never set eyes on again.

_His method of reminding you._

Clark held you with one hand and split the large barn doors enough to shove you in. But immediately you stumbled back toward him. Splaying your hands over his chest you begged silently for him to forgive you.

“I want to stay!” you screamed. “I was afraid! I know-”

Clark grabbed your arms and walked you through the dusty pitch black barn. Suddenly your body was yanked down as he floated up, and higher until he released you upon the loft floor.

A small window gathered moonlight through it and poured in enough for you to see Clark’s silhouette near you. 

Your voice came out hard and ragged in your throat you shouted. “I know that now!” 

On your hands and knees, scraping across untreated beams you grabbed at his legs, yanked at his jeans trying to get his attention.

“Clark!-da-Daddy,” You said softly. “Don’t leave me here again. Not in the dark-“

But he wrung your hands from his legs. He pulled you up from the floor and walked you to the spot. He ignored your pleas, the pathetic simpering as you blubbered.

He pinned you against the wall and jerked your hands behind and binded them with rope. Threads sheared your wrists, burned even more when he whipped you around pushed on the tops of your shoulders shoving you to the floor. The leather strap rounded your neck as a long flood of molasses sounding words poured from your lips.

“You don’t have to I will stay don’t please-” 

The sound of clicks, his fingers pushing hard nails through leather and wood crashed in your ears. With your leash secure, finally, he knelt down in front of you. His face was hidden in darkness, his voice just as bleak.

“You.did.this.” 

Clark stood above you. Eyes wide, mind emptying from the fear you stared up at the shadow. He turned away from you toward another set of doors. The ones used for service and slid them open completely to the naked night. The cool air washed over you, silver light poured in around him.

“This is the sky you tried to run away from today. In fact, I think this is exactly the direction you ran.”

He turned around, his body half in blackness you think perhaps this was a dream. In your hysterical thoughts wrought with fear, that this man, this eternal figure isn’t a man at all. But maybe a God, ancient and eternal who has come to save you. And the light shrouded around his figure, angelic brilliance shone becoming a beacon to his majesty.

“You sit here and look,” he said and you snapped out of the vision. Clark stepped backward into the empty sky and floated in the glow. “And appreciate the life I have provided.”

You didn’t know one person could cry as much as you had. Your vision swam through the tears across the loft to the second window, then slid to the wide open doors, and then to the window nearest you to the right. What you were looking for, you didn’t know. Maybe the sorrow would kill you, maybe a helpful soul would save you. 

“Clark,” You moaned pitifully.

You inched your head further to the right, found the familiar uneven beam and rested it there. It saved you from choking and allowed you some comfort. And you did as he said. 

Blurry eyes blinked, tears fell, and you stared through the doors out at the sky. 

He did provide. 

He did save you in ways you couldn’t have possibly appreciated until now. 

The sky lightened and your eyes fell shut. Maybe in dreams, you would find relief.

The back of his knuckles caressed your damp cheek. This hurt him. 

He stared from your soaked eyelashes, your strained neck, to your breasts and your legs one folded underneath the other. 

You were so obstinate. But he reminded himself that this was temporary, you were so close to understanding what you meant to him.

The sound within was just as strong, just as fierce as the first day he had heard it. His child with you would grow up as he had with loving parents. He promised.

Clark ripped the strap at your throat and caught your head. He shifted you, light as a feather to him, until you were laid flat upon your bound wrists. He spread your legs and quickly unbuttoned and pulled his pants down around his knees.

He needed the woman he loved. 

He missed you so much. Listening to you call for him hurt him more than what he had to do.

And when he slid into you, smooth and hot around him he knew it was for the right reasons. You needed to be broken down like you were nothing. How else would you know you were everything?

He grunted when he bottomed out. So tight. The stretching wakes you up. Fluttering lashes lift to his face. 

His now molded girl, accepting whatever he chooses. He sees it now in your eyes. Gone is the defiance. Your tears aren’t so much from fear but from pain.

“I know it hurts sweet pea.” he drawled. “ It’ll feel better in a minute.” he promised and kissed your lips.

He has taken everything from you. Clark swarms you with kisses, along your jaw, down your neck. You don’t have to be in charge of your life, not with him around.

He moans, deep and resounding against your neck. “I had to do this.” He whispered and pumped deeper inside you. 

You were so grateful, clenching around him whimpering for more. “You can cum sweet pea. It’s okay.”

“Yes, Daddy.” 

* * *

Weekends were busy in the Kent household. Clark made it a point to take off from the Daily Planet. Those two precious days he had with his family were the best of his week. The house came alive when he was there on the weekend. 

The children loved their mother, adored their father. They were beloved and often spoiled by the latter. 

There was a five year old, Clark Junior, running around. In the far corner of the kitchen, but not from your eye, three year old Martha played with her two year old sister Anne in the pin. Your eight month old, Jonathan, was juggled on your hip as you maneuvered around a five month pregnant belly and the stove.

Carefully you flipped the thick pancake in the pan. The oldest stomped through the hallway singing a loud whiny version of zippidy-doo-da. 

“C.J.!” you shouted from the kitchen. “Save that for school.” You growled under your breath as you turned and glanced at the two in the play pin. Thank god they weren’t screaming, you thought relieved for that small grace.

You turned back to the stove and placed the last pancake on the tall stack. You walked through the kitchen carrying the plate, your almost toddler to the table in the next room.

“Breakfast is ready!” you called.

Creaking metal and the sounds of toddler giggles hurried you back to the kitchen in time to see a mess.

“Clark! The girls, ugh-“ you sighed and sat Jonathan on the floor as you walked across the kitchen. 

“Martha! What are you getting your sister into?” you cooed and pulled a rod from her small hand. Anne waddled to you with a smile and waving another piece of their playpen in the air.

“That’s right, you and your sister have destroyed the third one.” You said as she tossed the metal to the floor with a clank. 

“Come on, hold my skirt. I have to get your brother.” You said and the girls both grabbed the back of your dress and tottered slowly behind you back across the kitchen.

C.J. walked past the kitchen door, he was crooning again as he smiled at you on the way to the table. You picked up Jonathan, checked behind you to see your daughters grumpy and smiling faces. 

You placed Jonathan in his high chair. Martha broke off and walked around the table to her booster chair. She held her arms open for C.J.’s help, reluctantly, and with a side-eye from you, he helped her up. On the other side of Jonathan, you placed Anne within her high chair as well.

“Morning Kent’s!” cheered Clark walking from down the hall. His voice carried through the walls, though you suspected all of the children could hear him coming even before you did.

“G—morning Dad.” Mumbled C.J. stuffing a sausage link his mouth.

Clark approached with a grin for only you. He stretched his arm out as you walked into his hug.

“’Morning sweet pea,” he said smudging a kiss on your temple. He gazed at his children squeezed in around the table. 

Clark pulled your chair out for you at the opposite end of the table and you sat. You helped Anne with chunks of eggs and pancake on her tray. Martha grabbed for the plate of sausage but Clark swooped in with a smooth hand and glided it just out of her reach as he walked by. 

He sat at the head of the table. Crystal blue eyes took in the sight. 

His family.

He turned to you. Beautiful as always, but most importantly, happy as you kissed Anne atop the head. Your eyes drifted to meet his tender gazing.

You mouthed the words, _I love you_ , and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus info: The Kryptonian names of each child.  
> CJ: Kal-El  
> Martha: Lara Kal-El  
> Anne: Zes Kal-El  
> Jonathan: Var-El  
> Baby girl: Kazia Kal-El


End file.
